Dates With Damon
by J S Arnold
Summary: A Date With Damon. A date. With Damon. What else could Bonnie have expected but trouble? What else did damon live for if not trouble? What will he do when she goes on a date with Damon? Why had she ever thought that dating him would be like dating anyone else, that anything afterwards would ever be the same...
1. 1

AR Oneshot

I do not own the Vampire diaries

**Dates With Damon**

**1**

She picked the brush from atop the dressing-table without glancing at it, knowing that it would be the first thing her fingers touched; she had tidied it just that day and only her brush sat on the shinning wood surface. The heat from the shower she had just taken was leaking from her skin like gas from a punctured tyre and a chill had raised bumps on her skin. She only remembered that she had left her window ajar when there was the sound of a bird flying close to her window.

"Bonnie -" a masculine voice started from behind her before she could properly turn, and at the sound her towel slipped from her bare body and pooled at her feet. Her fingers were numb as she stared in shock at what laid on her bed. Before she took the shower, she had brought out some pyjamas especially so she could get dressed quickly because of the cold night, but he had moved them. In his hands, he held a silken dress. It had lace in a vee at the collar and along the hem at the bottom. "Why not wear this?"

"Why not wear that?" she repeated, her heart beating so fast she could barely breath. "It's too cold." she said in answer.

"No it's not, I'll make sure you're warm..." he told her smoothly, moving to her side in a flash. He ordered her to raise her arms and after a moment's of hesitation she did as she was told. She couldn't meet his eyes to gage the mood he was in. Damon sank to a crouching position at her back and her nerves went on high alert – super sensitive to even the air he breathed. It was true though; he did make her warm -he made her hot all over- as he took a seat on her bed.

Bonnie, with her forest of red hair and sometimes sickly complexion, couldn't quite understand why Damon was interested in her; her face wasn't as pretty as Elena's, nor was her hair as silky smooth an flawless, but he sat on the bed behind her – waiting. What was he waiting for, she wondered, did he expect her to do something?

She saw him in the reflection of the wall-length mirror watching her. He raised an eyebrow. He asked, "Is there something wrong, little robin? Would you rather I turn around while you dress?"

_What a silly question_, she thought, gazing at his reflection as if the mirror were a Tv screen, _I love it when you watch me._ She loved to feel his intense gaze trailing patterns across her skin like a brush over a canvas – his brush strokes silky smooth and masterful.

"No!" she started at once, unable to dampen her initial reaction to his words, "I mean, no, that's okay. You can look at me – if you want." She could feel the flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck. The skin there prickled with the awareness that a possible threat, a vampire, watched her from the bed. She knew that the blood just beneath the surface of her skin was a temptation.

"Don't worry, Bonnie. I'm not going to do anything."

"What do you want, then?" she asked in a tiny voice that broke. Damon always wanted something, and that something was usually in the form of the blonde goddess that was Elena: Elena who had been through so much in regards to Stefan and the dark dimension that it seemed even Damon had the sense to leave her alone. Was Bonnie her replacement?

"Now, what makes you think I want anything more than your company?" he asked sweetly, flashing his 700kw smile of brilliant shinning teeth. "I want a date – with you, Bonnie Mcullough. Tonight. How about it?"

It wasn't really a question, she thought, her mental voice frightened. He would take her on a "Date" whether she liked it or not. "OK." she told him.

Damon decided it was safe to let her have a little privacy while she got dressed, the least he could do, but he listened to what she was doing from the bottom of the stairs. He could hear the rustle of the silk as she pulled it over her head and the sound of her jewellery rustling as her fingers dug through it, trying to find that one piece of jewellery that would flatter the dress. It had been more than a whim that caused him to go to her, but after only feeling obsession for Elena and Katherine did he know what love was?

He wasn't prepared for her when she appeared at the top of the stairs and the sight of her took his breath away. He had been breathing because he was nervous, which was weird in of itself. She looked glorious like an angel cast down from heaven, and suddenly not son innocent. She looked like a fox in the dress he had brought her, like a vixen from the forest. Yes, that was the word he searched for; Wild.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she began to descend the steps, and Damon felt glad that he had waited to adorn her with the shoes down stairs. She wasn't as graceful as Elena by any means, but her clumsy steps were cute and it was like watching a puppy taking it's first steps. In an instant he had climbed the steps and had her in his arms.

"A lady ought to have someone to help her when descending the stairs," he said matter-of-factly as he gracefully carried her down to the hall below. It gave him such warmth to have a woman in his arms without wanting to feed. He felt like he did when he was human and this made him happy.

As he carried her down, she tried not to focus on how his arms fit snugly against her, how his touch sent electricity down her spine. If he thought this was _helping her_, he wasn't so different from his brother – overprotective and attentive. She better not tell him this thought or he would drop her.

"Why is it so hard for you people to believe that I just don't want to be alone?" he asked, exasperated suddenly, answering a silent question he thought was written all over her face, _What are your motives?_

"You don't make it easy," she stammered, clinging to him like a koala bear holds to a tree, "You seem happiest when you're alone." And she prayed that she hadn't said the wrong thing.

His face, as she stared up at it, seemed to harden visibly. He didn't say anything else until they were in the car heading out of Fells Church. When they were driving down a long road in a parting between the trees he finally spoke, "I guess, you're right. I guess I – I don't know. I can't _be _like Stefan. I can't _be _gentle, can't be like him..." he paused and shook himself. "I don't _want _to be like him."

"I don't want you to," she told him almost silently, hardly believing she was actually speaking these words, "I like you for who you are, Damon. Besides," she looked at him for the first time since she had begun speaking, "you're more fun."

"Now, that's true." he told her, flashing her that brief smile that was there and gone in a second.

He drove the car into the parking lot of a restaurant she had never seen before and parked at the end away from any of the other cars scattered around the area. He told her that it was because he didn't want anyone to scratch the lacquered black paint. She noticed that all the cars around her looked expensive and she wondered again where he had taken her, and whether this was an elaborate trick. What other possibility was there than that? Damon didn't usually do this kind of thing.

As they walked through the entrance of the restaurant, she caught the eyes of the people waiting to be seated and wondered if they could be really checking her out. At school, the only person people would stare at like this was Elena – because Elena was the pretty one. Bonnie was always the one that no one took notice of, but tonight, for the first time, she was the centre of attention for practically everyone.

"You're blushing," Damon told her, his tone teasing but gentle, "you're beautiful with colour in your cheeks."-Which only made her blush harder, her cheeks feeling luminescent.

The waitress took them to a table in the corner, away from the rest of the diners, and Bonnie saw Damon slip the poor woman a generous tip with a smile. "Let—let me know when you're ready to order," she stammered, handing us both a leather-bound menu. She stood waiting for the corners for a few moments before Damon explained that they needed time to think,

"Damon," she began once the waitress had sauntered away dazedly with our orders, "Why are you doing this to me?"

She expected him to reply with something along the lines of '_Because I thought it would be fun – I was bored.' _but his face was serious. He told her, "I needed some time away from _her._" he said simply, his tone cutting.

"Oh." she replied, looking down at her fork and knife as her eyes watered. She had always been quick to cry and she didn't want him to see the pools in her eyes. He put two fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face so she had to look at him.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to spend time with."

A/N: If you like this concept, can you please message me :-) I plan on continuing it.


	2. 2

Dates With Damon

2

The Effect

The warm fudge tasted like heaven on her tongue and she closed her eyes as a tingling began at her lips. The dessert had been delicious, the best thing she had ever tasted, and Damon only smiled at her when she told him this. She felt a fluttering in her stomach to see the sparkle in his eyes, feeling that she was unbelievably lucky to have witnessed something so rare – like a comet shooting across the sky.

"Thank you." Damon said suddenly, touching her hands lightly with his. None of this made any sense; it wasn't just the concept of loving her that he failed to understand, because whatever effect she had on him would soon drive him crazy. He hadn't ever felt _this _need before in all his many centuries and his body and mind couldn't agree on how to tackle this problem building inside him. It _was _a problem, he thought, but for once he had no idea how to solve it.

"For what?" she asked, her voice so high that it was possible only vampires and dogs could hear it.

"For agreeing to this 'Date'" he held up his fingers to signal the quotation marks on the word _date_, "Look. I know I'm a dick. I know that I need to grow up, but I also know that I can't do it alone." He saw that she still flinched when he reached for her hands, as if he hadn't just practically spilled his feelings to her in a slurry. He felt the growl of fustration itching to be ripped from his chest.

"Do you want a taste?" she asked after a pause that had been on the verge of uncomfortable, motioning to the dessert, "I don't think I can eat it all on my own."

Damon shook his head slightly, frowning at the temptation of her blood. Why those words? The spoon rattled against the bowl and she sat back with her eyes averted. If she even looked at the molten fudge she felt she would be sick, and she couldn't look into his face. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"One question," she said once she could look to him again, "Why me?"

"I thought we have already gone over this. You're the only human I can stand to be around; Elena is a pain in my ass, and I think Meredith wants to kill me."

"You're probably right about Meredith; you're not her favorite person. As for Elena... Elena loves Stefan, Damon. She's probably going to love him until, like, forever." she saw her words cut into him like razor blades and tears form on his lashes. She didn't understand – hadn't Stefan already told him this dozen's of times, hadn't Elena?

"I see."

"But she will always care about you, I think." she told him in a hushed tone. "And Damon?" she waited until he raised his eyes to her's, "I'll always care even if you don't."

He squeezed her hand gently and rose from the table in a motion so seemless that she barely noticed him moving at all. He stood by the table with his arms outstretched as if to help her to stand. She took his arm and stood without stumbling even once. He held her for a dizzying second. "C'mon," he breathed exhasperatedly, "I want you to be the first to see my painting."

XxX

"Your painting's _here_?" Bonnie asked nervously, staring at the forsaken warehouse before her and feeling tendrils of unease spreading from her stomach. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as Damon led her past the discarded metal and plastic – even old furniture like armchairs littered the area. She didn't feel comfortable here, but she had promised him that she would come to atleast see his portrait once.

"Just inside this door." He guided her through a shadowed doorway and past the many obsticles in her way. He took her deep inside the building and down stairs into a cellar. The moment she touched solid ground, his arms around her vanished and any light from above melted into the darkness. In the pitch black she could hear nothing but her own breathing.

"Damon?" She asked the void, "Damon, are you there?" She dared not move an inch but a soft breeze ruffled the tiny hairs on her arm, "Where are you?"

"Here, I'm here, no need to worry." he said. There was a clicking sound and a light above her head flickered. The light it shed came in bursts, but somehow even with this blinking light his movements were graceful as he moved with his vampiric speed to stand before her.

She heard herself gulp as he grasped her chin between his fingers and turned her face to the left. Slowly, he put his lips close to her ear, he said, "Don't move you're head."

Faster than she could follow with her normal human eyes, he moved to remove a sheet from an eisel in the corner – and when the sheet fell she gasped. The image before her was colourless, just an outline on a boxed canvas, but eerily familiar. "Is that me?" she asked quietly.

"It's meant to be, but even I sometimes can't remember," he took her by the hand and brought her to the unfinished painting. He took a locket of her hair between his fingers and began rubbing it, "Your hair is beautiful, Bonnie." he told her gently as he brought a selection of different colour paints and a pallet.

XxX

"My dates normally have more fun, honestly." he told her distractedly, hearing her yawn, as he painted her hair a deep burgandy red. Now that he has her near, he cannot understand how he could have forgotten the exact colour of her hair. He saw in the flickering light that Bonnie was a vision, and he wondered how he couldn't have seen it before. He had seen her skin in his minds eye, seen it's perfection, and the rosy red of her lips. He had only painted her face, neck, and shoulders but he would have painted her entire form if it would only keep her sitting in front of him for longer. When he finished he almost regreted telling her afterwards.

"Can I see?" Bonnie asked, hopping off the stool where she had been sitting, and she was by his side before he could respond. After studying it for a short while, she turned to him and frowned, "I'm not that pretty." she said, blushing and turning away from him.

Damon was confused. Were those not the colours shinning in her hair, the bronze and deep red of a sunset? Was her skin the wrong texture, was it not as flawless as the real thing? Was the beauty he saw before him not the beauty he remembered? "Aren't you?" he asked, cupping her face in his hands, "This is the effect you have on me."

The end


	3. 3

Dates With Damon

3

The mystery visitor arrived at her door at aproximately eight o'clock in the morning, and Bonnie felt herself become ridged beneath the covers of the bed. It wasn't so early that she could complain much, but it was early enough to make her consider rolling over and ignore the knocking sound. She was still glowing from the night before, but this unwelcome intrusion into her morning threatened to make the warm fuzzies disappear into smoke.

She went down stairs, blocking her eyes from the worst of the morning sun, and unlocked the door. Before she opened it, she had been hoping that it would be Damon here to bring her some morning glory, and the thought of seeing him again had made her happy. What actually met her wasn't nearly as good, but she wasn't exactly going to slam the door in the young woman's face, or the rose's. There was a bunch of them in the woman's gloved hands, all red and fresh and over-sized. Bonnie couldn't count how many there were, but she aproximated that there must be more than a dozen.

"These are for you, Miss," The woman said.

It was in her mind to refuse to take the flowers into the house, but before she could speak a word the stranger was speaking again, in a way that was strangely familiar. It was like she knew more about her than was prudent.

"These were ordered by a... Damon Salvatore, Miss. Do you know this man, is he a friend?" By the way she said _friend_ Bonnie supposed she meant boyfriend or lover. "If you don't mind me saying, Miss, you don't look as if you were expecting this delivery..." Her voice dropped into a hushed whisper. "If you need me to, I can call the police to make sure he doesn't bother you again..."

Mental images of the police showing up at Damon's door, accusing him of harrassing her with the flowers, sent mortification through her. She could feel her cheeks flushing red and wondered what the delivery-woman would make of _that_. "No, that's okay. It's our... anniversary—he always send me flowers on..." she tried to remember the date today, "the... the 14th of September..." She suspected the woman didn't quite believe her but she was inside her house with the door firmly closed before she could see for herself if it was true.

She stood in the hall for about a second, clutching the flowers so tightly the thorns cut her skin, before the phone began to ring. She manouvred the bunch of flowers into her left hand and picked up the phone reciever with her right, cutting herself again in the process. "Yes?"

"Did you have a good night sleep?" There is a pause while he waits for an answer.

"Yes... did you send the flowers?"

"Yes... did—I mean, do you like them?" _He sounds so nervous..._

"I love them, they're beautiful Damon, thankyou... thankyou for everything..." She felt awkward, standing in the drafty hall in nothing but her nightie and a pair of slippers, and she hoped to hell that he would know what she was talking about so she wouldn't have to explain herself and her silly feelings.

"Good—Good. Can I see you again tonight?" _What could make his voice so tentative? Doesn't he know how he makes me feel?_

"Of course... Is... Are you alright Damon?" She put the roses into a glass vase without putting water in with them, too distracted by Damon's tone of voice to think properly. She settled herself down at the kitchen table, listening and waiting.

"I want to make you happy, Bonnie, but I don't know how..." _It broke her heart to hear him sound so lonely._

"It's easy," she said brightly, "just wait until tonight." _His smile crackled over the phone_.

"It's a date," he said.

"A date," she replied, waiting until he rang off before she did the same.

**TBC**

A/N: What do you think?


	4. 4

_**Dates With Damon**_

4

While he was thrilled to have gotten a second date, Damon was more nervous than he had ever been before about what the night could bring. He felt like he was going to be a disappointment, somehow; She had said that she loved the flowers, though he doubted she felt so strongly, and he wanted to give her something she would really _love_. He knew she had liked the jewellery she had been temporarily given in the dark dimension, but there was no way he would be able, or want, to return there again any time soon. Maybe something from this dimension? Something expensive, and just for her?

He strode purposefully into the little jewellery shop and felt as though a headache would come any moment. He hadn't been in a shop like this for decades –silver was too much of an irritation—and he was momentarily dazzled by the trays upon trays of shiny things winking at him from every angle.

"Can I help you, sir? We have platinum, silver, and..." The voice came from over his shoulder, and he turned too fast to face her. He should have been more careful to move like a human, but she had startled him and the vampire had taken over. Before he could stop himself, he was snarling at her with his fangs bared.

"_I would be grateful if you showed me your selections_," he growled, feeling the change as his eyes darkened. He hadn't intentionally used compulsion but the saleswoman's eyes were glazed over as if she would do anything he asked her to do. If he hadn't been in this shop to buy a gift for another woman, he would have seriously thought about taking a sip from the attractive brunette, who was blatantly trying to draw attention to her ample breasts and tiny waist with the clothes she was wearing. He would have been tempted before—not now, not by anyone other than _her_.

There was a definite swallowing, but otherwise the clerk seemed unphased—_Strange. _"Are we buying for an anniversary, a _romantic_ anniversary?" She asked the question as if she hoped the answer would be no, her attempts at getting his attention away from Bonnie obvious and pathetic. It had been this way, always, and after a few centuries it had become tiresome. Wasn't it obvious that he already had a girlfriend, that he loved her, and that these women had no business getting in his face? He swallowed the irritation with difficulty.

He came out of the store twenty minutes later holding a little bag with the jeweller's name on it, using the back of his hand to wipe away any excess blood covering his lips. The saleswoman had been annoying to talk to, but her blood more than made up for it; Right now she was laid out in the storeroom, still alive but unconscious from the loss of blood. Maybe he would visit the store again, even without an agenda, and take a little more. It all depended on how tonight went, and if Bonnie would be willing to take things to the next level.

That train of thought gave him pause. What if she was unsatisfied with him, when it was time for them to part? What if she was horrified by his proposal and ran from him? He was not sure if he could stand it if she did. There was no one else for him in the world, and so tonight was more important than almost any other night in his life.

~#~

It was already the afternoon, and Bonnie was beginning to panic. She had nothing to wear, or nothing that looked good enough, anyway. All the things she owned were too imature-looking for tonight, all soft shades and frills. For Damon, she wanted to feel like a woman, and it would help her cause if she looked like one too.

Elena was the closet to her size, although she was more than a head taller, but she didn't know how she felt about asking her for anything when this _date_, she still could not believe that anything so romantic could be between her and Damon, was with a man she had openly pined for in the past. Did she still want him, _would _she still want him if he and Bonnie were spotted out together, in a restaurant, say? The answer might be yes, and Bonnie did not know how she felt about that.

She could not ask Meredith because she was too tall, _and possibly out to kill your boyfriend_. This time when she thought the word _boyfriend _it was not with those invisible quotation marks she had been unable to shake. He might not have said the words to make it official, but she hoped that she wasn't presuming too much in thinking of him as if he had. The date tonight proved it, did it not? There could be no confusion when tomorrow came, could there?

What did she think would happen tonight? She felt embarrassed. All they were going to do was have some dinner, nothing more. Even if she, by some misfortune, managed to get herself drunk, he wouldn't take advantage of her, would he? He was more of a gentleman than that, she told herself absolutely, ignoring the voice in her mind that told her she was a fool for thinking so. He was different with her than he was with anyone else, so even with a small part of her doubting, she could believe that tonight would be special to them both.

She shook her head—no, nothing in her wardrobe would do. _She had to go shopping_.

~#~

Damon knew he looked good in a tux, with or without a reflection. His hair, which was usually well styled, was even more perfect than usual. His whole self was flawless, perfect in a way that he rarely bothered to make it without a good reason, but the butterflies in his stomach refused to abate. It couldn't be anything that he was wearing, or anything around him in the room, so the cause had to be something else. The slight trembling seemed to be coming from inside him.

"What's got you all dressed up?" said a voice from the door to the room. "Got a date?"

"_Porca troia! _Leave, Stefan, before I do something I'll regret..." Damon suddenly felt as though the loosely fitting collar or the shirt was strangling him more and more. Damn Stefan, why couldn't he leave him be for just _one second_. What was his _little brother _doing, asking him things that are none of his business?

"Who with, one of those bimbos you usually hang around with? I thought you had had all you could get from them..."

"She's not a bimbo, unlike _your _girlfriend—Elena..." It had come out before he could think to filter his response to make it less antagonistic. Damn, if he hadn't extended this particular conversation a few more precious minutes he would be surprised. He couldn't stand here all afternoon arguing with his brother, he had places to be, things to do. He had to have time to get ready for this evening, to impress his Red Bird and make her want to be with him.

The necklace he had brought her was beautiful, stunning, and expensive. If she had an qualms about their being together, he hoped that this would erase them, if not completely, mostly. With her, he felt like he had to try.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you insult Elena," Stefan ground out through his clenched teeth.

"Pretend all you like, brother," Damon grinned and dodged a swipe of Stefan's fist. Sobering, he went on in a low and threatening voice, "Now, I said, _get out_."

~#~

Bonnie felt very self conscious as she slipped soundlessly out her house and down the short path to the curb. She felt as if all eye were on her, judging her for wanting to be wanted by a vampire. She could no more deny her feelings than she could her witch heritage, she just wished that the two things did not conflict. Witches were supposed to be against Vampires, Vampires were supposed to want to suck the life out of them, so she knew that this was supposed to feel more wrong than it did. It felt... _odd_.

In terms of distance, it was only a short walk from her house to the shops on the main high street, but in her mind the journey seemed to last forever. By the time she reached one of the best clothing stores in Mystic Falls she felt as though every inch of skin was covered in sweat. Was it just her imagination, or was the whole world watching every move she made?

The bell above the door chimed as she walked in and she felt as though it were an alarm especially for her. The dresses hanging on the racks were lovely, all of them, but the prettiest ones seemed to honestly glow. These ones were glamorous and unique, she could tell by the price on the label tagged on to the hanger. What she would give to be able to have one of those... instead of the cheaper, less magical ones confined to the darkest, least lit part of the shop. The trouble was, she _really _wanted to look good for Damon but didn't have the financial power to do so. She sighed, what was she going to do?

A movement from the back of the store caught her attention. Whoever it was, they made no sound as they navigated through the racks to get to her. Something inside her began to squirm; what if she had made a mistake in coming here, what if this was the owner coming to chuck her out for being too under-dressed in her store?

It was the owner all-right, but the look on her face was far from aggressive. Startlingly, Mrs Schomak of Schomak Formal-wear had the biggest grin on her face that she had ever worn in her life. Her eyes were bright with the kind of excitement that Bonnie thought she could recognise. Money, Mrs Schomak was all about the financial side of operating a business and business must be good for her to be looking so happy...

"Miss McCullough! I've been expecting you!" she exclaimed happily, practically vibrating.

_You have? _How could that be, how could she know about her date with Damon, tonight? "Really?" Bonnie asked, because until recently she hadn't thought she's ever be coming here again.

"Oh yes! Now let's look at you... no, no, I think we'll have to measure you first..."

_Measure me first? _Bonnie felt a little bit anxious about how quickly this were escalating. She had only come in here to browse...

Noticing her confusion, the saleswoman faltered. "You _are _Bonnie McCullough, aren't you miss?" She looked flushed, as if she were already hearing the word _no_. "It's only that we had a call just now, one that said that if... you... were to come in that we should let you have anything you like..."

_Damon_. What had he been thinking? What did he expect from her tonight? Did he want her to spend all his money? How much money did he have?

Feeling numb and more than a little as if she were going to faint, Bonnie followed the woman into the changing room and prepared to be dressed for tonight.

~#~

"When tonight can that be delivered?" His voice was deceptively calm as his mind raced. It was just his luck that every decent restaurant in Mystic falls was booked tonight—he had forgotten about making reservations since usually he would use compulsion to get his own way. Why he didn't use it now? He did not want to cheapen the experience with Bonnie by using vampire powers. She would think that there was nothing impressive about using compulsion to get what you wanted, and right now he had to agree. Instead, he was planning dinner at home, alone and by candle-light. If than didn't fulfil her romantic desires, he didn't know what would. "Never mind, then," he spat into the receiver, "I'll make the dinner myself"

_Damn_, he thought as he put the receiver down. _Why the hell had he said that?_


	5. 5

**Dates With Damon**

**5**

There were no words, Bonnie could not take her eyes off of her own reflection she was so stunned. The dress was... lovely, ruby red and satin and absolutely out of her price range. According to the woman dressing her this was all paid for anyway, but no matter how much she thought about it she could not wrap her mind around the idea. They were only going on _one _date, she thought with a twinge in her heart, and there really was no need for Damon to pay for a dress that she probably was never going to have the opportunity to wear again in her life. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of him wanting anything more. The jewellery came next. The stones in the necklace and ear rings were fake, she knew, but to the casual observer they sure looked real. They glistened as she turned this way and that, just like the real things, and she felt as though she could pretend.

"How much will all this cost?" She asked.

The woman looked momentarily startled, her face white and expressionless, and Bonnie felt another squeeze. This was not natural, she thought, this is not right. All the time she had been here she had thought something was wrong about this, but she had been to dazzled by the dress and the jewels that she had purposefully ignored the feeling. Now she examined it and was not surprised that Damon had used compulsion. She did not condemn him after she had thought about it longer, because she knew that he only did it so she would get the excellent service she had. He wanted to make this date magical, and it seemed as though he would succeed. "It's all being paid for..."

She had no choice but to leave the store wearing the dress, which was something she would never forget for as long as she lived. The dress was so formfitting that it had had to be sown onto her, meaning that when the time came to take it off, she would literally had to tear it apart. The little voice inside her head was back, telling her that maybe it wouldn't be _her _ripping the dress off tonight.

She shook herself to chase away the images that came to her, images of _Damon _doing the ripping, taking the hem of her skirt into his mouth and just... a hot flush spread over her face, making her feel confined and even more uncomfortable. Where was she going to go, and how was she going to get there looking like this?

~#~

Damon wanted to leave the house to get some extra things for tonight, but he was afraid that if he did Bonnie would come home to find him gone. He didn't want her to worry, but being away from her was making it hard for him to concentrate on anything. She filled his mind every moment of every day and night, and it was impossible to stand here alone without longing to see her again. He had gone centuries without knowing her, but he could not stand to be apart from her now. What had happened to make him so sentimental?

Everything that needed to be was in the oven at a low temperature, and everything else that didn't was cooling off in the fridge. He was glad that he had thought to take cookery lessons a few decades back, or else this night would have been a disaster. Handling food had been distasteful to him once, but tonight, at least, he enjoyed creating. This meal would be unique, never in the history of the world had this meal, made in _this _way, been before, and this gave him some satisfaction. The thought of giving Bonnie something only he could give excited him.

~#~

Bonnie stopped walking suddenly and turned around. She wasn't imagining the eyes on her, she knew, since these feelings she sometimes got were almost always accurate. It was part of the witch heritage, a sense that she had inherited from ancestors that were long dead. Standing here in this dress made her feel more nervous than she would usually feel, mostly because the tight fabric would make running impossible and running was what she felt like doing. It felt as though she were being hunted.

She felt uneasy and disturbed, and she wanted more than anything to have Damon by her side, keeping all the nastiness away. She only remembered how good it felt to be with him when he was not with her, and when she remembered she yearned for him like she did no one else. How could she ever go back to dating normal guys, when _he _would be the only one she would ever want?

"Who's there?" She asked, feeling her skin prickle and her lungs squeeze. Her heart was racing, and she hadn't even seen anything yet; it might be nothing, nothing more than her imagination playing tricks on her. When there was no answer, Bonnie resumed making her way towards her house, keeping the pace brisk to get home as soon as she could. The shoes she wore were not helping her one bit, but taking them off meant carrying them and she wanted to keep her hands free... for what? Did she think she was going to fight? She shivered and carried on marching towards home. She could just about see it ahead.

_Damon_, she thought as forcefully as she was able, _Damon..._

~#~

He wished he could call her, ask what time she would be back, if she knew that _back _meant at her house and not his. His phone sat a short distance away in the side-table in the hall, he would be able to hear it ringing from the kitchen, but where was her's? Did she have it? He hoped that she did because the thought of her being unable to contact him if she was in trouble made his heart freeze within his chest.

A feeling of light-headedness forced him to grab the kitchen counter for support. What _was _that? He wished he knew. "Bonnie..." He whispered as a second wave of worry came over him.

He looked at his watch and saw that Bonnie should be coming back any moment. He was so anxious to see her again that he could hardly breathe past the constriction in his throat. He could not just wait for her, he decided in a second, and now that dinner was cooked he was free to try and find her.

He didn't bother to grab his coat on the way out, but he did think to take her's. She might need it when he found her, and his vampire body-heat was not enough to keep her warm if she was cold—or hurt. He shook himself, there was no reason for him to think that she would be hurt, no reason in broad daylight.

~#~

Her dress suddenly felt as if it weighed a tonne as she came nearer and nearer to her house. The closer she came the more desperate she felt to be inside—be with him. She had never wanted anyone like this, and the intensity of the feelings scared her. Perhaps it was all so frightening because it had happened so quickly, she didn't know, but whatever it was it was making her sick. She wanted to see him so bad that when she saw him she thought her brain had conjured the image from her memory.

"What happened?" He asked the moment that he was close enough, wrapping a coat around her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

She thought about telling him about the sensation of eyes she had felt, but erased that thought a moment later. None of that mattered now. "Nothing happened," she told him gently, "I'm fine." It was a lie, but a white one. She couldn't stand to make him worry, since worrying about her was what he did most, and she wanted to change anxiety to another emotion entirely. She put her hand on his cheek, something she hadn't done before, and felt the eternally smooth skin beneath her fingers.

He didn't move away like part of her feared that he would. He pressed closer, moving his body so that her's fit against it perfectly. He didn't mind that she was lying to him about this, he would not force her to tell, but this was one thing he had been wanting to do for a while now. He found that her body was not as child-like as it appeared on the surface, and had curves and bumps just like any other girl's did. He didn't know why he was surprised by this; she wasn't a child any more. She hadn't been a _child _for as long as he'd known her, he just hadn't seen it. He had been _blind_, he decided.

"Let's get you inside, red-bird, out of this cold..."

He led her inside and helped her with her coat. With all the drama of finding her alone and apparently unsettled by something unknown, Damon had forgotten about the dinner he had been preparing all afternoon, as insane as that might sound, but at the sight of the dress he recalled it at once. He could have smelt the food from across the street, but he had been too involved in Bonnie to register the smell and remember that he had a dinner planned for tonight. With a side-ways glance down at her, he wondered if she would be hungry, or if all that food would go to waste.

"Are you still in the mood?" He asked with an elevated eyebrow.

"For what?" she giggled, shivering a little as he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her up off the ground. He kissed her and she felt his warmth all the way down to the tips of her toes.

"For dinner, maybe something else later, if you feel up to it..." he smirked, a brightness in his eyes that was unfamiliar in him. He held her to him with his right arm and stroked her cheek with his left hand. His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but couldn't. Something was holding him back, and Bonnie wished she knew what it was. He kissed her lingeringly, tasting the flavour of her lip-gloss and enjoying the flavour of strawberry's for the first time.

"Oh yes," She said, "definitely."

A/N: Do you want more dates? I thought I might take them to other countries for dates or something, because Bonnie is being watched by unknown forces.


	6. 6

**Dates With Damon**

**6**

He took her hand between his fingers, she was so small that his whole hand would have engulfed hers otherwise, and led her into the dining room. The candles he had lit filled the room with a warm glow, and he knew that she would get warmed up pretty soon in here. He wasn't smiling, but then it was hard to while he was so worried about her. Something must have happened that she was not telling him, and he hoped that tonight would loosen her lips. He showed her to the table and pulled out her seat. She looked to him to see if he was serious.

"Thank-you," she said, taking the seat and feeling her grin grow wider. She refused to even think of what his motives were for this romance, because that would remind her why she had felt so afraid before. She would not let her fear of the unknown spoil tonight, she refused to.

He couldn't shake the idea that he was wasting precious minutes, doing nothing, while he could be doing something, anything, to ensure she would be safe and remain that way. "You said that you thought someone was watching you—"

"Watching _us_, I think," she said, feeling her insides clench with anxiety as she thought about him being in danger. If anything happened to him, she didn't think she could stand it.

"Watching us..." He seemed to be thinking that over, as if this was something he had never considered before, though him not thinking of every possibility was unusual, considering that he was usually one or two steps ahead of his enemies. "I won't let them—whoever they are—touch you, Bonnie." His eyes searched her's from where he sat across the small round table as he decided whether or not she believed him. His eyes, always probing, felt as though they would burn her like a laser.

She fought hard not to touch the side of her neck, where the prickling sensation was at it's strongest. Whatever Damon was feeling the emotion was intense, she could tell, although _what _it was remained completely hidden from her. "What are you thinking?" she asked in a low, husky voice that didn't belong to her—or shouldn't. She really wanted to know, because the expression in his eyes gave nothing away. This date had barely begun, and already it felt as though he would be making his excuses to disappear, despite what he had said about not leaving her unprotected.

He cleared his throat as if there was something stuck in it, and his face scrunched up in distaste, as if whatever it was would not budge. "I'm thinking that maybe this isn't such a good idea after all..." he murmured quietly, staring off into the distance and not meeting her eyes with his own. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the risk with her, and opened them both up to attack. He had been selfish to think that he could pluck this delicate rose from her friends, where she had been protected, in a way, and expect nothing bad to come from it.

"How about we skip the dinner, go straight to desert?" He thought about all the other food he had prepared for this evening, felt a little pang of disappointment that she would not get to see it, appreciate it, but at last he decided that it did not bother him if it went to waste. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed cooking and knew he could always make the food again, that this wouldn't be the last time.

"I _do _like ice-cream..." she mused, looking adorable as she contemplated the possibilities.

"Don't lie to me Bonnie, you should know not to by now," he smiled at her startled face, "I know you _love _ice-cream—strawberry ice cream," he stood from his chair and promised her "I'll be back before you know it."

~#~

The moment he raced out of the room, the feeling of being watched returned, only much stronger. Now it felt as though every picture, every golden object, every picture had eyes that were trained on her. The prickling sensation was gone, but it was replaced by a burning that felt too real to be conjured from just her imagination. She wanted to call out to Damon, to reassure herself that he hadn't truly left her, but she had just enough air in her lungs to breathe. She had never known anyone who affected her so strongly; Damon had the power to blast away any fears she could have, and to give her dreams that would leave her breathless for a time afterwards.

Without him she felt vulnerable.

~#~

Damon used his hip to push through the door between the kitchen and the dining room, as his hands were full with two plates, a large bowl of ruby red ice cream, and an even larger bowl stacked high with strawberries. It was not until he had put them down onto the table that he could focus his attention on Bonnie, and notice how fragile she looked cradling herself with her arms wrapped around her chest. All the exuberance that had filled him before felt as solid as water as it left him suddenly, feeling drained. He had been pleased with himself—how could he have forgotten about her?-and now he felt as though he had been sucker-punched in the stomach. His heart squeezed painfully inside his chest and the idea that something had happened while he had been busy in the kitchen. He had failed her, it was something that he knew.

"It hurts..." she moaned in a voice so small, so scared, that it tore his heart from his chest. "It hurts!" She was growing frantic, squeezing her eyes shut and curling into a ball. "_Oh god_, It hurts!"

"What hurts!?" He was frantic too, frantic with worry and a feeling of hopelessness. If this was how Stefan felt, he could now understand why he did the things he did sometimes, especially when he thought that something was happening to Elena. This terror inside him was unlike anything he had felt before, as strong as it was, it was sucking the energy from him like a vampire sucks blood from it's victim.

"Everything! Everything burns!" Her words were becoming slurred, as if part of her was not working right, or not working at all. He listened to the words, taking far too long to understand. Burning? There were no flames on her and her forehead felt too cold for a human. Where was she on fire? A thought came to him, but he shook his head. Not there. There? "What do you need?"

She wiggled so much that she fell from the chair onto the ground, and there she kept moving. She gyrated her hips on the floor, bending her knees as if she could not help it. Something about this was very wrong—this was not the kind of thing _his Bonnie _would do, hell, it was not the kind of thing even Elena would try, even in desperation. Something was wrong, and he knew without knowing why that the wrongness had to do with the presence they had both felt watching them.

Not feeling the least bit like a fool, as he would at any other time or place, he raised his face up and asked the empty space, "Why are you doing this, why are you punishing me?"

_Why didn't he just leave?_

The thought came unbidden into his mind, so loud and so clear that he could never pretend like he hadn't heard it. Deep inside, in that small part of his mind where rationality still lived, he knew that what the voice in his head said was true. He had to leave, leave Mystic-Falls, leave everything he had come to know so well, but what he would not do was leave his Red Bird. He would never leave Bonnie again, not for one moment, not for all the world. She was everything to him, and no voice in his head would be able to tell him otherwise—he would listen to his heart instead.

Out the corner of his eye he saw something reflected in a hanging mirror, something dark and shapeless. It had eyes that flickered red.

_You can't run. You can't hide_.

"Well then, we'll just see about that." And with those last words, Damon took Bonnie with him out the front door, bridal-style, heading for his car. He needed to get her out of here, somewhere safe and far away. Maybe they couldn't hide in Mystic Falls, but the world was a very big place to get lost in.

He wondered how she would like a date in France, and if the darkness would be strong enough to follow them there.


End file.
